The Roman Campaign
by KnightOfRound
Summary: This was a military-style campaign that I DMed with 11 PCs serving as elite soldiers the D&D-ized Roman Army. My first fanfic in 6 years! Some chapters have music suggestions. (The selections are from the anime series "Naruto" soundtracks)
1. Preface

The summary says it all. The cast of characters is as follows:

Fighters

Jam: Carthaginian Male. Dragoon.

Jas Jaeda: Roman (noble) Male. Younger brother. Leader of the platoon.

Mailanna Jaeda: Roman (noble) Female. Older sister.

Dorian Steel: Roman Male. Younger brother. Wields a two-bladed sword.

Draegor Steel: Roman Male. Older brother. Wields a Greatsword.

Thorhall Thunder: Roman (noble) Male. Anti-Undead Paladin.

Vega: Egyptian Male. Strategist.

Wizards

Calmar Sarin: Male Greek (noble) Wizard. Specializes in Evocation and Transmutation.

Artimus Sendant: Male Greek (noble) Wizard. Specializes in Illusion and Conjuration.

Hans: Female Roman Wizard. Specializes in Conjuration and Evocation.

Yassir: Male Roman Wizard. Specializes in Diviniation and Transmutation.

Grim: Male Roman Wizard. Specializes in Necromancy and Illusion.

Priests

Caldark Kornin: Roman Male. Healing Cleric.

Japeth Marvel: Roman Male. War Cleric.

Vermund Valorium. Egyptian (noble) Male. Anti-Undead Cleric.

Scouts

Telarian Gonda: Roman Male. Combat Ranger.

Trebil Slorin: Roman Male. Skills Rogue. 2nd in command of the platoon.

Obviously, it will take some time to get to everybody!


	2. Chapter 01 Enter the Scouts

Chapter 1

"Oh yes, this do be trouble."

A fierce wind blew across the crest of a hilltop, where the battered remnants of a tower stood monument to an ancient nation that had died out centuries ago. In contrast to the verdant forest spreading across the land for miles around, the hilltop was grey and barren. Some said the land was haunted. Lesser men would have believed such tales. Its current occupants were anything but that.

The man who stood on top of the battlements ignored the fierce wind that threatened to push him to a grisly death. Aged and grizzled, he had the look of a man who had seen hell and lived to talk about it. He lowered his spyglass and kicked a rock at his companion, startling him awake.

"You'll want a good look of this, lad. Besides, you do be too young for napping."

The veteran's companion was not much taller, but he had fiery red hair and startling blue eyes. He appeared almost too young for the army, as evidenced by his scraggly beard.

"I have a name you know," replied the companion. "Call me Telarian. May Pluto take my soul, but I deal with enough rank in the camps." Telarian rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and took the spyglass from his elder.

"And while I may be young, old man, that doesn't mean I don't need to sleep like ordinary mortals. Besides, I don't see you scouting the…" Telarian's voice trailed off as he realized what he was seeing. "Mars save me, but that must be an army of at least thirty thousand. I did not believe they had so much strength left in them." The veteran grunted in agreement as Telarian gave the spyglass back to him. "Which one of us will ride back to warn the camp? I'd just as soon stay here myself, but perhaps an old man such as yourslef would prefer to stay here and warm your joints."

The veteran gave Telarian a flat stare in reply, and brought the spyglass back up to his eye. "We both will ride. These folk do be of the craftiest sort. Their scouts will be upon us soon enough."

Almost on cue, an enormous arrow tore through the air just a few feet above the veteran.

"Luckily for us, Barbs be terrible shots." the veteran mumbled to himself. "Youngling! Get the horses and I'll—"the veteran whirled around to see Telarian already riding down the hilltop.

"Bloody younglings!"


	3. Chapter 02 Enter the Mages

Chapter 2

Music: Kakishi's Theme

_I must be careful...first the tiger, then the elephant, and now the ox... _

The robed figure sat in the absolute darkness of his tent. Grim and serious, his hands wove arcane gestures in the air. The giant five-pronged star etched into the ground before him began to glow a deep purple.

"Yes! YES! I can feel it!" he cried exuberantly.

The air inside the room became very heavy. A tingling sensation rippled across the wizard's entire body, threatening to ruin his concentration. The stone began to pulse with a life of its own.

"It comes! It comes! The slayer of starvation! The killer of craving! The foe of famine! IT COMES!"

An unnatural wind burst inside the room. Tables, books, and flasks slammed against the walls. Inside of the summoning circle, a dark form began to coalesce. Tears streamed down the robed figure's face as he took in the ecstasy of magic.

_At last! After all those years of research! My life's work!_

Suddenly, the winds surged and sent the figure flying across the room, slamming him into one of the many bookcases lining the walls. He blacked out for a moment as the bookcase fell on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

_The experiment...did it work?_

The winds began to die down and the air returned to its normal state. The wizard groaned in pain, and he struggled to get out from underneath the bookcase.

Suddenly, the door to his inner sanctum burst open, and a man rushed into the room. "Artimus!" he cried, "Are you alright? I heard the commotion!"

The wizard pinned underneath the bookcase let out another groan. "Calmar! The summoning circle, is it intact?"

Calmar glanced over at the summoning circle as he went over to the bookcase. A small pie sat in the middle of the summoning circle. "I don't see any extraplaner beings, if that's what you're asking. It looks like there's a pie inside the circle." Calmar grabbed the edge of the bookshelf and heaved it off the trapped wizard easily.

Artimus coughed up some blood as he stood up shakily. His eyes shone with excitement as he limped back towards the summoning circle. "Don't you understand my genius? The pie IS the the summoning!"

Calmar shook his head as he dusted off his hands. "All this work to summon a pie? It looks like you tried to summon a class four demon from the mess you caused."

Artimus started to laugh, which ended in a wheeze as he coughed up more blood. "Ha! This is no ordinary pie, my friend. You have heard the child's tale about ambrosia? I have called forth something better than that."

Calmar rushed up to support Artimus. "Take it easy now," said Calmar, "we'd better get you a cleric right away. You can eat your pie later."

Artimus protested as Calmar dragged him out of the room. "You fool!" he coughed, "the pie will get cold! I must taste the fruits of my labor immediately!"

Calmar shook his head as he carried Artimus out the door. "It'll be here when you get back. Nobody would be crazy enough to take anything from your room."

Artimus started to protest again, but Calmar heaved the weak mage over his shoulder. "You were lucky that I was coming to see you," continued Calmar, "I had just finished teaching your soldiers the fireball scroll. I don't mind filling in for you once in awhile, but you should really take care of your own troops."

"Must...have pie..." groaned Artimus.

Calmar smiled, and adjusted the mage on his shoulder. "Ah well. Now, tell me about this new summoning spell of yours..."


	4. Chapter 03 Telarian's Battle

Chapter 3

Music: Strong and Strike

Telarian hunched low on his horse as they galloped through the forest. He closed his eyes and focused on his mount. "Hurry, Windrider," he said. "We've got to ride more quickly in order to get to the fort in time."

Telarian's horse snorted as it narrowly dodged a great oak tree. _Foolishness_, it replied. _Break leg_. _Enemies come_. _Gallop into next world_.

Just then, an enormous arrow whizzed past Telarian's shoulder. "Damn Fortuna!" he said. "I'm going to get rid of them, you stay close."

Windrider snorted in agreement. Telarian heard another air fly through the air and plunge into Windrider's hindquarters. Windrider neighed in pain, threatening to throw Talanshar to the ground.

At the last second, Telarian leaped out of the saddle and grabbed a low hanging tree branch. He used Windrider's momentum to swing himself up. After taking a second to balance himself, he unlatched his Short bow.

Sure enough, his attacker continued riding directly pass Windrider, hooping and hollering in his victory.

Telarian drew an arrow and aimed at his target. _I must be careful. I've only got two shots until he'll reach cover._ He exhaled slowly, and let his arrow loose.

It sailed true, and plunged into his foe's mount. _That one is for Windrider!_ he thought.

The mount collapsed, and his foe tumbled out of the saddle. Truly monstrously-looking, the barbarian stood nearly seven feet tall, and blue war paint decorated his entire body. Other than a quiver and a gigantic claymore strapped across his back, he wore nothing else. Telarian swiftly swung around to the opposite side of the tree before the barbarian could see him.

_Damn Gauls!_ thought Telarian. _My best chance is to keep my distance. As long as I can stay out of his melee range, I can probably take him out. Those bows take too long to load._

The barbarian began to laugh. Telarian could hear the vibration through the tree trunk. "Herausgekommen, Kürbis." the barbarian growled. "Lassen Sie uns zusammen spielen."

_Well, I don't have a clue what he's saying_, thought Telarian, _but I don't think I want to find out_.

Telarian closed his eyes. He brought his hands together, palms facing outward with his fingers interlocked. _Diana, please bless your servant in his time of need_, he prayed. _May the forest entangle the intruder!_

The vines wrapped around the trees closest to the barbarian exploded outward, deftly constricting the barbarian. He roared in a rage and twisted fiercely, snapping many of them. His bow twisted in his hands and formed a crude set of manacles. One of the nearby trees bent down and entangled his legs.

_Now's my chance!_ thought Telarian.

Telarian leaped out of the tree, firing his bow in midair. The arrow flew straight through the entangling plants and sunk into the barbarian's left shoulder. The barbarian roared in pain, and shattered the crude manacles as he reached for his claymore.

Telarian swiftly ran away as he drew another arrow. As he dodged a tree trunk, he spun around briefly to fire off another arrow. The barbarian roared again, confirming a hit.

_Praise Mars!_ Telarian thought. _That's two. It will probably take only one more_.

Telarian ran from tree trunk to tree trunk in an attempt to lose his pursuer.

_Did I lose him? I don't hear anything._

The barbarian's huge Claymore flew through the forest and impacted on the tree Telarian was hiding behind. _He's still behind me? What speed!_

Telarian spun out behind the tree and fired another arrow at the barbarian. It struck the barbarian's left thigh, but he kept on coming. "Gekommen und stellen Sie mich ehrlich gegenüber!" the barbarian cried as he rushed up to the tree and grabbed the hilt of the claymore. Telarian's eyes widened in fear as the barbarian began to pivot towards him.

The claymore sliced through the air with deadly intent. Telarian rolled out of the way, and the blade cut through the air where Telarian had been just a moment before. The barbarian, unable to stop the momentum of the blade, sunk the claymore into a nearby tree nearly 3 inches deep.

Telarian dropped his bow and drew his twin gladii in one fluid motion. The barbarian tugged the claymore out of the tree trunk with ease and came at Telarian again. This time, Telarian threw up his gladii to deflect the blow, which caused his arms to spasm in pain. _His strength is enormous!_

As the barbarian was recovering from the previous swing, Telarian darted in under the barbarian's guard and sunk his right gladius into the barbarian's abdomen. _I have you now!_ thought Telarian grimly. The barbarian dropped his claymore.

The barbarian looked down at the gladius sunk into his chest. Then he looked into Telarian's eyes and grinned. "Ich werde beendet," the barbarian said. "Aber Sie kommen mit mir!"

The barbarian's massive left hand grabbed Telarian's face and picked him off the ground. Telarian swung his gladius upwards and cut the barbarian's biceps, but the barbarian's right fist came around in a punch and sent Telarian flying. He slammed into a tree trunk nearly ten feet away.

Black flecks danced across Telarian's vision as he got off of the ground. He could barely make out the barbarian kneeling on the forest floor. The three arrows remained lodged in his body, and blood was gushing forth from his left arm.

The barbarian locked gazes with Telarian. Hatred swam across his eyes. "Sie sind gut," he said. His body began to shudder, and the barbarian sunk to the ground. He brought his eyes up to Telarian for a final time, and this time they were filled with peace. His face fell to the ground, and his body exhaled its last breath.

_That was a close one_, thought Telarian. _I must've had the bad luck of crossing an officer_.

Telarian limped back to his mount. Windrider's head turned to watch his return. _Rider gone?_ she asked.

Telarian nodded and muttered another prayer to Diana. His hands began to emit a pale blue light. He grabbed the arrow buried in Windrider's hindquarters and slowly drew it out. The wound healed itself up afterwards. Telarian threw the arrow aside, and Windrider stood up.

_Other horse?_ asked Windrider.

Telarian turned around to see the barbarian's mount twitching on the ground. _Stranger_, it cried out. _Help me._

Telarian hesitated. He wanted to help the barbarian's mount, but he only had enough mana for one more spell. He knew that a battle was likely to happen later that day, and that he should probably save it for an emergency. And besides, he wasn't exactly in perfect shape himself.

"You won't return to the barbarians?" asked Telarian. "You'll roam free?"

The barbarian's mount signaled acceptance. _Free_, it replied. _Free like birds_.

Telarian sighed, and went over to the mount. He muttered another prayer and healed the horse's wound the same way.

_Thank you_, replied the mount as it stood up and stretched. _My herd will remember you._ The horse trotted off into the underbrush.

Telarian limped back to Windrider. _You are weak_, snorted Windrider. _Should have killed. Nature knows no kindness._

Telarian ignored Windrider as he mounted her, grimacing in pain. "I couldn't help it," he replied. "He was a creature of nature, just as much as you and I."

Windrider snorted in disagreement, but didn't say anything else. They started off once again.


	5. Chapter 04 Enter the Fighters

Chapter 4: Enter the Fighters

Music: Sasuke's Theme

"Yo! Did you honestly believe that I would fall for such an obvious feint, bro?"

Dorian Steel propped his wooden two-bladed sword on the ground and leaned on it. Tall and wiry, he had short, spiky black hair and dark eyes. He faced off against his older brother, Dorian Steel, in a wide open-air courtyard inside the fort. Young fighters and grizzled veterans lined the balcony surrounding the courtyard, placing bets and cheering the brothers on.

"Maybe I was just testing you," replied Draegor Steel. "I wouldn't want to abuse my extra experience on you," he continued with a smile.

The two brothers looked nothing alike. Draegor was short and stocky, and unlike his brother Draegor was a quivering mass of rippling muscles. He wielded a gigantic greatsword that was over five feet long and almost a foot wide. Like Dorian's weapon, it was made out of dense training wood.

"Go Dorian!" yelled someone from the balcony. "You show 'em, captain!"

Dorian smiled and laughed. "Ha! I hardly need encouragement to defeat this big oaf." Dorian raised his two-bladed sword into the air and assumed a defensive position with his sword off to one side. He gestured his brother to come forward. "Let me see your real stuff," said Dorian.

Draegor saluted his brother, and assumed an offensive position. He gripped the hilt of his weapon with both hands and drew it low on his right side, with the blade trailing behind him. "Very well," he said, "Prepare yourself!"

Draegor let out a loud roar and charged at his brother. The greatsword came slicing towards Dorian horizontally at an amazing speed. Dorian rolled off to the side as he attacked the bottom of the greatsword, knocking it upwards and over Dorian's head.

Dorian leapt at Draegor, who was able to recover his blade and block Dorian's vicious attack. Draegor retreated backwards.

Dorian smiled. "Running away already, bro? You want to cede the match right now?"

Draegor grinned absentmindedly. "Nope, just trying to create some distance between us. Oh, look out there."

Dorian, confused, turned to look where Draegor had indicated, and was promptly tripped on the flat of his back. Laughter erupted in the balconies.

Dorian leapt to his feet, his face burning with embarrassment. Draegor had backpedaled fifteen feet away, widening the distance between the two him. This time he held his blade in a defensive position, and gestured for his opponent to come forward with a smile. _Damn it_, thought Dorian_, I'm at a disadvantage at this range. I've got to get in close to him so he can't use the greatsword's range on me._

Dorian slowly circled around his opponent, but Draegor adjusted and kept fifteen feet of distance between them. _I've got no choice_, thought Dorian, I'm _going to have to make a run for it_.

Dorian charged at Draegor, but before he could close the distance the greatsword came swinging, smacking Dorian across the ribs with the broad side of the blade and sending him backward. The balcony erupted in cheers.

"That's one point for me," smiled Draegor.

Dorian came running at Draegor again, and this time he was able to knock the greatsword out of the way in time. He came underneath Draegor's guard and thrust underneath his opponent's arm. He scored a hit, and in response Draegor released his weapon and grabbed the hilt of the two-bladed sword.

"One point for me," grunted Dorian.

The two brothers struggled over the control of the weapon. Even though Dorian appeared to be thin and wiry, he had an unnatural strength that belied his appearance.

Draegor thrust an elbow at Dorian's chin, loosening his grip enough for Draegor to pull the weapon free. Draegor immediately attacked Dorian with his new weapon, but Dorian slithered out of the way and picked up Draegor's greatsword.

"Interesting," smiled Dorian. "Care to trade?"

Draegor smiled, but shook his head slowly. "Nah. I've always wondered if you could use my sword properly. Now's as good time as any."

The brothers charged at each other simultaneously, and their weapons slammed together in a cross formation. The crowd cheered on as the two brothers pressed against each other. Draegor started twisting the two-bladed sword, in hopes of catching Dorian with the bottom blade, but he started to lose control of the contest.

_Dammit_, thought Draegor, _I can probably catch him with the bottom blade, but he'll come through the guard and score a hit on me at the same time. That might not be so bad, but he'll probably get me first because he's faster_.

Draegor grimaced as he continued to lose ground against his brother. _No choice!_

Draegor shoved the two-sword upward, catching Dorian in the chest. However, in the process Dorian's weapon came through the hilt of Draegor's guard and struck a blow on his shoulder. The brothers stepped away from each other, laughing. The crowd booed.

"A tie?" groaned one of the spectators.

Draegor walked up to his younger brother and embraced him with a bear hug. "That was a good fight, little bro! You did far better than I expected."

Dorian smiled in reply, and lightly lifted his weapon from his brother. "Yeah, you too. I just hope your greasy hands didn't sully my favorite practice blade."

Just then, horns began to billow from the fort's walls. Everyone in the courtyard halted and listened to the peals of the horns. Just then, the voice of the Fort's commander, Hoskuld Kelar boomed across the fort. "Centurions, gather your troops with full battle gear and report to the southwest gate! This is not a drill!"

The troops in the balcony began to scatter, and the two brothers looked blankly at one another.

"Looks like will have some action today," remarked Dorian.

"Good," replied Draegor with a smile, "All of my fights today have been too easy. I don't want to get out of shape."

Dorian punched Draegor in the side jokingly, and they left the courtyard together.


	6. Chapter 05 Message from the Front

Chapter 5: Message from the Front

Music: Jiraiya's Theme

Trebil Sloren galloped through the forest as fast as he possible could. _I should be coming up to the observation post soon_, he thought. _That youngling better not be diving into any trouble without me_. _If anything happens to him I'll wring his scrawny neck! _Trebil gritted his teeth._ After the clerics had treated him!_

Trebil came to an abrupt stop at a rock formation. _Yep, this is the place_, he thought. He lifted up one of the freestanding rocks and squashed the giant bug lying beneath it. The rock formation shimmered and was replaced with a giant oak tree. A large platform encircled the upper portion of the tree trunk. A rope ladder stretched down from the platform to the ground. Two horses stood nearby, tethered to stakes in the ground.

Trebil grabbed his reins and approached the great oak. Suddenly, a loud siren blasted "Intruder Alert! Identify yourself! Intruder Alert!"

_These damn mages_, thought Trebil. _Them and their bloody spells. Do they want to trumpet our presence to the enemy?_ Trebil attempted to soothe his agitated mount. He covered his ears to shut out the racket.

After two or three more repetitions of the alarm, the siren ceased. A different voice boomed from the heavens, "Prepare yourself!" Trebil recognized the voice and groaned. _Out of all the recon teams to come across, why did it have to be this one?_

Just then, the air in front of Trebil shimmered and a soldier wearing a bright yellow cloaked robe apperated approximately three feet off of the ground. He promptly dropped to the ground with a thud. The mage quickly got up and assumed a defensive posture. "I am Yassir Glanchovian!" the mage shouted, "State your business or be vaporized! Yeaaargh!"

"Would you shut off that damn racket!" yelled Trebil back at him.

Yassir smiled and snapped his fingers, and the alarm shut off. "The password!" Yassir demanded, "State the password!"

Trebil removed his hands from his ears and sighed. "The cumquat crows at midnight," he muttered.

"AhhhhAA! You pass! Congratulations!" cried Yassir exuberantly.

"I don't have any time for your stupid antics," growled Trebil as he started to climb up the rope ladder. "I have urgent information for Praetor Hoskuld. I need you to link me to command."

"Of couuuurse!" cried Yassir. "Information is my specialty!" Yassir muttered a few arcane words and apperated on top of the observation platform. He missed the ground by a good three feet and fell for the second time.

"Burn me Yassir, but why do you use that damn spell?" asked Trebil as he hauled himself up on top of the platform. "You'll miss the whole tree someday and get yourself killed."

"Ha!" retorted Yassir, "That is nonsense! Nobody can kill the number-one sneakiest mage! Not even myself!"

"Enough fooling around, I've got to talk to command," snapped Trebil.

"Alright already, alright...sheesh," replied Yassir as he rummaged through a backpack near the ladder. "Just let me get out my scryball XVII...aha, here it is!"

Yassir sat the orb on the floor of the outpost and gestured for Trebil to come closer. "Don't be shy!" snapped Yassir, "This is an important matter, right?"

Trebil hesitated. "Well, I wouldn't want to busy you," said Trebil cautiously. "Where's your partner? They could link me to high command instead."

Yassir sat in front of the scrying ball and began weaving arcane gestures in the air. "Oh, he's sleeping right now. He doesn't like the daylight; I wouldn't want to wake him up."

"Too late," rumbled a voice from the shadows.

Trebil turned around, surprised that he had not noticed the second mage. He was hiding in the shadow of the tree trunk in between Trebil and Yassir. Unlike Yassir, this mage was very pale, and had a grim expression on his face. Like Yassir, he wore the standard mage armor, but his magecape was a pitch black. Trebil wondered how the mage was able to hide in plain sight. As an imperial scout, Trebil had been thoroughly trained how to see through arcane illusions. But he hadn't sensed any illusions after the rock formation illusion was dispelled.

"Forgive me," continued the gravely voice. "My name is Grim. I am...assisting...Yassir at the moment." Yassir ignored the conversation and remained focused on the scrying ball. "Unfortunately," continued Grim, "I am not very skilled in the art of scry. Yassir must do it." Trebil groaned.

"I'm just about ready!" sang Yassir. "Stand still!"

The pale blue flame inside the scryball burst into a flame, nearly enveloping Yassir. The flame did not seem to generate any heat, and Yassir calmly continued his arcane gestures in the wick of the flame.

Trebil braced himself for what he knew was coming next. Sure enough, a similar blue flame burst around Trebil and his skin seemed to slither up and down his body. _Bloody magic!_ remarked Trebil to himself.

Yassir halted his arcane gestures, but the flames continued to consume both of them. Slowly, Yassir's appearance morphed into a tall, imposing figure, decked out in a Praetor's full ceremonial armor.

Trebil descended on one knee and averted his eyes to the ground. "Praetor! I have urgent news from the front. A massive Gaul army will soon be crossing our border. I would estimate that there are over forty thousand troops."

"Please rise, Centurion" beckoned the Praetor's image. "Forty thousand, you say? Have any other scouts confirmed the movement?"

Trebil rose to his feet and shook his head. "No, Praetor. I came here as quickly as I could. There was one other scout with me, but we were separated. If it would please the Praetor, I ask for leave to search for my comrade."

The Praetor's image smiled. "Permission granted," said Praetor easily. "Under the usual circumstances I would require a second report to confirm the evacuation of civilians. However, I trust your word, Centurion Sloren." Trebil bowed in acknowledgement of the compliment. The Praetor continued. "I will keep in touch with the other border scouts as you search for your comrade. You have done well, Centurion. Dismissed." The flames surged around Trebil, and suddenly they were gone.

Back at the observational post, Yassir was sitting on the ground with his back propped against the tree trunk. His left hand held a book and his right hand laid on the scryball. He sensed a tingling sensation in his right hand that indicated the end of the transmission. "Oh, so you're done already?" asked Yassir absent-mindedly. "That was quick. Whatcha talk about?"

Silence answered him. Yassir looked up and saw that Trebil was nowhere to be found. "Crap! I hope I didn't trap him in the _melchinor's messenging chamber_ for an eternity. Oh well." Yassir shrugged it off.

"No, you didn't," rumbled Grim. "You just missed him leaving. We must smell."

Yassir paused for a second in shock, and then looked up from his book. "Wait a second. Grim, did you just make a joke?"

Grim's normally grave expression twisted slightly into a smile. "I hope you're not rubbing off on me."

Yassir burst out laughing.


	7. Chapter 06 Alarm

Chapter 6

Music: Sasuke's Destiny

Praetorian Hoskuld stepped outside of the messaging chamber. _Why are they coming so soon?_ he thought. _They haven't ventured this far in the past four years. Did they somehow catch wind of the Operation?_ Hoskuld shook his head. _No. There's no way they could've ferreted out one of our spies. Besides, even if they did why would they assault this fort? They remember what happened four years ago._

Hoskuld walked over to the next divination circle and gently clasped the Mage's shoulder. "Soldier, sound the alert. Level 5," Hoskuld said with an emotionless voice. He moved onto the next divination circle. "Soldier, I want all _optiones_ to come to the command room after they have collected their _centurions_." Hoskuld turned crisply and walked towards the balcony. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the sky. _It looks like it is about to rain,_ he thought. _Let's hope that it rains with Gaul blood._

**-----**

Jas Jaeda was lounging underneath a tree in the fort's forum when he heard the alarm. He closed his book (titled _Pax Romana_) and listened intently to the tones. Soldiers began running across the forum. _Fifth level alert?_ he thought. _This is serious. I'd better gather my soldiers._

**-----**

Inside the fort's medical ward, Artimus and Calmar were laughing as the available medic treated Artimus' wounds. "Well, you should be fine," interrupted the medic. "You had some severe internal bleeding, but it looks like my cure has done the trick."

Calmar smiled and pat Artimus on the shoulder. "Good to hear that, Caldark! Considering how often we end up here, you medics should pass out frequent customer cards."

Caldark smiled as he stood up, removing his glowing hands from Artimus' shoulder. The light blue aura winked out as he dusted off his hands. "Well, it would help if you two would take the proper safety precautions. I'd give you another arcane safety scroll, but between the two of you we've ran out of stock."

Artimus leapt out of the bed. "Why, I feel as fit as a fiddle!" he exclaimed. "Now! To the pie!"

Just then, the alarm sounded. Artimus groaned in disappointment. "Fifth alert? But I'm so starving..."

Calmar grabbed Artimus' shoulder and ushered him towards the forum. "C'mon now, this could be interesting. A little bit of work today wouldn't kill us," said Calmar.

"Work, schmerk," grumbled Artimus. "You think you could cover me for a bit? I'm just going to go grab the pie."

Calmar shook his head. "No, I don't think so. The _optiones arcana_ will get all huffy is she doesn't see you at the assembly. This is probably just a drill. The Gauls don't have a force within 200 miles that could threaten this fort."

**-----**

Trebil Sloren sat in horse's saddle, on top a hill in the woods. He shielded his eyes from the midafternoon sun as he searched his companion. _Where be that bloody youngling? He should've made it to the checkpoint an hour ago. Something must've happened to him_. Trebil gritted his teeth as he hunkered down into his saddle. _I've no seen any of the signs, so he must be northwesterly yet._ Trebil sighed_. That's the direction the Gauls are coming from._

An arrow whistled through the woods and snapped Trebil of his reverie. He whipped around to see a camouflaged Gaul fighter standing six feet away from him, holding his Great axe overhead. Two arrows stuck in his chest.

"For Apollo's sake old man, get moving!" yelled Telarian's voice from the forest.

The bushes erupted with camouflaged Gaul warriors, who screamed their battle cries simultaneously. Trebil counted six as he deftly rolled out of his saddle and drew his twin gladii. He braced himself for the oncoming assault.

"Ten denarrii says I take at least four of them!" roared Trebil.

**-----**

Jas Jaeda grabbed a nearby saddle and threw it over his mount. "Easy, boy," he murmured. "It looks like we going to have plenty of work today."

A tall soldier jogged into the stable. Towering over six feet tall and wearing a massive set of half-plate armor, Mailanna Jaeda leaned on her knees to gather her breath. "Brother, have you heard any word?" she asked.

Jas shook his head slowly and comforted his mount. "No. I haven't heard anymore than you have." Jas frowned. "Besides, what are you doing here? You should be gathering your troops."

Mailanna's faced burned with embarrassment. "I don't see your troops anywhere! I could ask the same of you!"

Jas turned over his shoulder and shouted back in the stable. "You guys doing alright?"

"Aye, Centurion" replied several voices. Jas turned back to his sister and raised an eybrow.

Mailanna crossed her arms and turned away. "Well, I had best be going," she said. "Little brother..." she hesitated. "Watch yourself out there."

Jas' mouth twisted into a wry smile. Mailanna jogged off into the distance.

**-----**

Hoskuld stood in the center of the scryroom. The room was designed in the shape of a perfect circle. The only natural light came in through the peak of the domed ceiling, which enveloped Hoskuld in a puddle of light. Twelve wizards with scrying balls surrounded the room. They projected a 360 degree view of the surrounding countryside. Hoskuld stood facing the northwest. A dust cloud covered the horizon, and the setting sun painted the countryside with a reddish-orange light.

"Eleven o'clock, magnify times ten" commanded Praetorian Hoskuld.

On the northwestern wall the image of the countryside zoomed at an amazing speed, until individual soldiers became visible. Hoskuld squinted at the image.

"Eleven o'clock, magnify grid five, times two."

The image focused on the cavalry unit leading the march towards the fort.

"Eleven o'clock, focus grid eight."

Grid eight expanded to fill the entire image, which made individual faces were visible. Hoskuld took in a sharp breath as he recognized one of the soldiers.

"Eleven o'clock, focus grid four."

The image sharpened and centered on the leader of the cavalry. He was a heavily muscled man with long flowing hair that trailed behind him. A large scar crossed his face, left to right. It matched the scar on Hoskuld's face.

Hoskuld clenched his fists and lowered his gaze. "Hossein. I have been looking forward to this." Hoskuld smiled.


	8. Chapter 07 The Gates of Vienna

Chapter 7: The Gates of Vienna

Note: If you haven't yet, re-read Chapter 6 as it's been heavily edited.

Telarian and Trebil drew their horses out of the forest into full view of the fort. The wearied companions halted and took in its majesty. "Vienna," murmured Telarian.

Laboriously constructed with Druidic magic and weathered from hundreds of years of combat, Vienna projected an image of strength and magnificence. The Rhone River stretched around the outcropping that the fort sat on, almost as if the river itself had bent to the will of Vienna's majestic towers.

The fort had played an important role in Gaul history, both strategically and politically. By tradition, the lord of the fort was considered to be the lord of the Gaul people. It also guarded one end of the mighty bridge that crossed the Rhone. In more peaceful times, Augusta was the gate that Gaul traders went through in order to trade with the Latin people.

However, after the rise of Rome and the unification of the Latium, the Empire set out to absorb her neighbors. After Rome had been sacked several times by barbarian invaders (totally out of control of the Gaul Kings), she set out to create a series of buffer states around Latium. The historically peaceful Gaul became more militant as tribesmen pressed against its eastern borders, Britons pressed against its northern borders, and Latins kept the door to the south shut. A single warlord named Vercingetorix united the disparate Gaul tribes and repelled the invaders. Excited at their success, they raided the lands just north of the Latium Empire. Rome caught wind of the Gaulish advance and was all too happy to use it as an excuse to declare war on Gaul.

That was about twelve years ago. The fighting had been bloody on both sides. The Romans gained the upper hand by spreading dissent in the Gaul ranks, convincing and sometimes bribing entire tribes to rebel against Vercingetorix. Nevertheless, the Gauls had put up a good fight. It cost the Roman army nearly forty thousand soldiers to take Vienna alone. Still, the Gauls have been on the defensive the past five years. Vercingetorix has grown old and feeble, and rules his crumbling empire from a throne far from the battlefield. The Gaul Empire seemed to be on the decline. At least, until now.

Telarian and Trebil watched as the mighty gates of Vienna swung open. A stream of cavalry poured out of the opening, with each squadron of six cavalry sweeping towards its predetermined place.

Trebil nudged his horse forward. "C'mon, lad. It looks like the Praetor has cast out the Paladins already. We'd best get inside Vie with haste. I do believe the _optiones_ would like to speak to us."

Telarian followed, entranced by the disciplined maneuverings of Vienna's Cavalry. "Mars strike me, but I should've gone Paladin," he said.

Trebil belted a laugh, and turned around as he rode towards Vienna. "And be with those uptight prissies? Naw, you chose well, lad, to select the scouts. Besides, you ain't got the noble blood in you for the Paladinship."

-----

Geoff leaned against the wall of the control room and sighed. He had been assigned three months of watch duty for having an affair with a fellow soldier's wife. He hated the job, as it kept him awake during the night and asleep during the day. He knew he was lucky to avoid a military execution, but after being penned up in control room with only an idiot to talk to drove him crazy.

"Hey, I've got an idea!" said his companion. "How about we play a game, huh? I'll think of something, and you guess what it is!"

Geoff groaned. He walked across the room and laid down on a bench that lay in front of the arrow-slits that looked down at the gates of Vienna. "Give it a rest, Peewee. I swear to Mars, if you suggest one more game I'm going to kill you."

"Oh, c'mon, it'll be fun! We gotta do something, we're control room buddies!" whined Peewee.

Before Geoff could get up to give Peewee a good smacking, the door to the control room opened and a Centurion walked in. Geoff leapt to his feet.

The Centurion unraveled a scroll. "You are soldier Geoff, are you not? The Praetor wishes to speak with you. He has special commands for the upcoming battle."

"Hey! What about me?" piped up Peewee. "I guard the control room too! And I volunteered for the job; I'm not doing it for punishment like him!"

The Centurion turned to Peewee irritably and brushed him off. "No, the Praetor asked only for him. I will take his place, and together we will guard control room. Besides," the Centurion continued thoughtfully, "we can't leave the control room unprotected, can we?"

Peewee nodded slowly. "Yes, that's true. But why didn't the Praetor simply give you the—"

Geoff cut Peewee off. "Sir, permission to leave my post to see the Praetor?"

The Centurion nodded. "Of course. Make haste, soldier. I have a feeling that I don't want to wait here very long."

Geoff smirked as he walked out the door. _Sucker. You deal with him now..._

-----

Hossein sat proudly in his mount's saddle. He surveyed the land in front of him, and refused to look backwards to judge the morale of the troops. _It has been too long since I have returned home,_ he thought. _The sky, the trees, the animals...the land itself calls for freedom._ One of the Roman roads came into view on the horizon, and Hossein sneered. _These Romans are leeches on the land. They cut down the mighty oaks, they mine the sacred burial sites, and they carve their crude roads into holy land._ Hossein shook his head. _We tried to reason with them. We told them how their violent ways were upsetting the land. Already, most of the wildlife has fled. The land is drying up. But they do not care._

A rider came galloping from the west. Hossein recognized him as one of the lead scouts. Hossein signaled his army to halt, and spurred his mount onwards to meet the scout.

"All is in place, King Hossein," murmured the scout. "The Romans have seen us coming, as we had expected. They have mobilized their cavalry to the north."

King Hossein smiled. _They hope to catch us in a pincer. Well, we'll have a surprise waiting for them._ "Are all the units in place?" asked the King.

The scout nodded gravely. "Yes, milord. Everyone is in place. Including..." the scout trailed off, and the King glanced from side to side to make certain nobody was looking, and then moved closer.

"Listen to me," whispered the King. "There has been a change of plans. We attack this evening. Go to the other Kings and spread the word, quietly." The scout paled visibly and gulped, but gestured his assent. "If I hear so much of a word that you talked to anyone else other than a King," threatened Hossein, "either before or after the start of the battle, I will kill you myself." The scout hid his face and turned away. "Remember this," stated the King gravely. The scout turned and rode off into the distance.

The King turned back to his troops and signaled them to start moving forward again. _Today, I will reclaim Vienna in your name, Emperor Vercingetorix,_ vowed the King silently. _And together, we will wipe the Roman plague from the land._


	9. Chapter 08 The Art of War

Chapter 8: The Art of War

Geoff whistled as he made his way to the command center. Soldiers and Centurions rushed passed him, heading to the gates. _Why didn't the Praetor call me earlier?_ One of the passer-bys ran into his shoulder and kept on moving. _Dammit, I'm like a fish swimming upstream. I'll take an alternate route,_ he thought.

Geoff turned around the corner and was surprised to see the path almost completely absent of soldiers. A sole soldier was leaning against a building halfway down the path, lighting a pipe. Geoff continued forward, and the soldier caught his eye.

"Big battle today," the soldier rumbled gently. "Care for a light?"

Geoff raised his eyebrows but accepted the offer. _The Praetor can wait, it would serve him right for putting me in such a damnable job to begin with,_ he thought.

Geoff turned around and took a puff. "This is good stuff," murmured Geoff. He felt himself becoming drowsy. He didn't even notice that the soldier pulling him deeper into the alleyway. "But I think I've had enough, the Praetor..."

Geoff's words were cut off. He tried to speak, but his body wouldn't respond. He thought that was bizarre, until he realized that it was because a rope was pulling tight against his neck. _Now why did I..._

Geoff sank to the ground, and the soldier dragged the body behind a stairwell. The soldier smiled. He had a glint his eye.

-----

Artimus and Calmar lined up with the rest of the Mages on the battlements, about 80 in all. The _optiones arcana_, a stern-looking young woman with striking reddish-orange hair was pacing up and down the battlements, rebuking soldiers over the tiniest mistakes.

When she got to Artimus and Calmar's position she scowled at both of them. "Late again I see," she growled. "I swear by the Gods, if one of you two screw up I'm sending both of you off to Cyprus! Now get 'out the way, you blokes!" She plowed through the two mages and went down the battlements in a huff. Artimus turned to Calmar with an exaggerated aghast look on his face.

"Rawr, look it me, I'm big scary _optiones arcana_ lady, watch me roar in fury," mocked Artimus.

"Oh, shut up" came a voice below the two mages. Calmar jumped in surprise and looked around. "Down here," growled the same voice.

Calmar looked down to see a black cat with an angry expression on its face. "Oh, it's just Knall," said Calmar with exaggerated relief. "Artimus, why do you allow that cute little pussycat up here? His luxurious coat will get singed."

Artimus shrugged. "Meh, he goes where he wants. But more importantly, what I want to know is why are you doing defending that witch-ard? I'll have no companion of mine sit in her confidence!"

Knall casually lounged and examined his claws. "I don't know what you're talking about; she's a nice woman once you get to know her."

"You're only saying that because she feeds you!" snapped Artimus.

"You haven't ever fed me!" replied the Cat.

Artimus threw his arms up in exasperation. "You're magical! You don't need to eat!"

"Yes I do," growled the Cat. "You've never asked me about it."

"What are you talking about?" argued Artimus. "What about the pasta I made last night? You said you wouldn't touch it!"

The Cat turned his nose up. "That's because it was YOUR pasta, you twit. You used a _burning hands_ spell to heat up the pot! It was singed to a crisp!"

Artimus threw his hands up defensively. "That's how I like it! How was I supposed to know that magical beasts have bad taste?"

Calmar rolled his eyes and left to check on his soldiers. _And I should probably check on Artimus' soldiers too_, he thought with a sigh.

-----

Hoskuld stood in the center of the scrying room, with his hands clasped behind his back. He heard footsteps coming up the spiral staircase in the center of the room. The click of the heels distinctly belonged to the _optiones arcana_. Hoskuld remained focused on the northwest panel.

The _optiones arcana _reached the top of the staircase and joined Hoskuld on the outcropping. She brushed her hair out of her face and saluted. "All mages are standing at the ready, Praetor," she said crisply.

"At ease, Tiberia," murmured the Praetor. "I wonder...why do you think the Gauls are coming without siegery?"

Tiberia turned to study the northwest panel, but remained at stiff attention. "I must confess that I do not know," she admitted cautiously, "do the Gauls have the technology? I have not heard of them using siegery before."

Praetor Hoskuld lowered his gaze, and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The Gauls are amazing architects. This fortress is a testament to their ingenuity. So, why aren't they bringing siege weapons? They're coming down the roads anyway. How can they expect to take the fortress with brute force?"

The Praetor paused, and Tiberia shifted uneasily. "Perhaps," started Tiberia, "perhaps they know something about the fortress that we don't? A secret entrance, or a perhaps a glaring weakness?"

The Praetor shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I've worried about that myself. But if that was the case, they would have attacked years ago, when much of the fortress was still unexplored and booby-trapped."

Tiberia twisted her mouth and nodded. "That's true. Perhaps this is a suicide attack? The war has been going on for years. Perhaps they see it as an honorable death."

The Praetor smiled. "That is very insightful of, Tiberia. I didn't know that you were a student of Gaul culture."

Tiberia clicked her heels and smiled "Second rule of war, know your enemy," she quoted. "Once, I saw a pack of five Gaul archers rush a full cohort, using their arrows as crude daggers. I had cast _comprehend languages_ before the battle so I could converse with one of our Gaul scouts. They died while screaming at the heavens for honor." She sighed. "Gaul culture? I'd hardly call that culture."

Praetor Hoskuld turned to face Tiberia. "I wouldn't be so ignorant, Tiberia. Tell me, have you ever studied Gaul artwork before?"

Tiberia took a step back in surprise. "No, Praetor, I have not. The only art I study is war."

Hoskuld smiled. "Ah, but art is war. I obtained a pair of Gaul paintings a few days ago, and I have been studying them ever since."

Tiberia looked from side to side uneasily. "You use the enemy's artwork to design battle strategies?"

Hoskuld nodded and turned back to the northwestern wall. "You'd be surprised what one can learn from artwork. For example, Roman artwork is neatly organized and crafted to perfection. The best way to fight it is to introduce chaos to battle, most likely through ambushes and guerrilla warfare. On the other hand, Greek artwork focuses on the individual and triumphs intellectualism. They can be easily read and smashed with concentrated blows."

Tiberia snorted. "Well, if you say so Praetor. Then, do you expect chaos in this coming battle?"

Hoskuld slowly shook his head. "Gauls do not appreciate art. It took me nearly three months to find a merchant with those pieces. Vercingetorix is a clever defensive strategist, but I haven't seen any of his offensive strategies until now. I don't think he could read us so easily."

Tiberia blinked slowly. "Well, that may be. But lack of siegry, it indicates a suicide attack, yes?"

Hoskuld sighed. "I doubt it. The Gauls are a very honorable people, but they also have a deep amount of respect for life. Vercingetorix wouldn't throw lives away without a reason." Hoskuld paused. "The second rule of warfare is to know your enemy. But the first rule..."

"...is to know yourself," concluded Tiberia.

Hoskuld nodded and lowered his gaze, deep in thought. Tiberia waited impatiently.

"In any case Praetor, I was thinking that the mages should open up with fireballs at maximum range, and the switch to missile fire for the rest of combat. With some luck, we will break the Gauls before they make it to the walls."

Hoskuld nodded his assent absentmindedly. "Yes, that sounds appropriate, _optiones_. You are dismissed."

Tiberia saluted and took a couple steps down the staircase. She paused and turned back to the Praetor. "Sir, if you don't mind me asking...what did you see in the Gaul paintings?"

The Praetor clasped his hands behind his back and looked back up at the northwestern panel. "Nature. A deep love and respect for nature."

Tiberia shook her head as she descended the staircase. _How does that knowledge help in warfare? _She snorted and re-arranged her hair. _That Praetor is most certainly the strangest superior I've served under. He had better know what he is doing._

-----


End file.
